Why was Ethan Jones famous this fast, this aggressively, this overwhelmingly? How was he able to sell the way he did, dominating the charts at such a ridiculous speed? What was it about him that even had upper-class NFL-loving fans—people who normally wouldn't care about a pop star—going absolutely feral over him? These were the same people who would spend thousands of dollars on front-row seats just to watch grown men tackle each other for a leather ball. And yet, here they were, spending just as much, if not more, to pack themselves into a venue full of celebrities, their attention entirely fixated on a 24-year-old pop star.
The question might seem simple. The easy answer? Talent. Ethan had a God-given voice, a voice that could melt hearts, shatter emotional defenses, and make even the most stoic NFL coach wipe a single tear from his eye. But was that really it? Was that all there was to it?
Attractiveness played a role, sure. He looked like the kind of guy who could make even happily married women reevaluate their vows. And his music? It resonated. In these overly commercialized, creatively drained times, Ethan somehow managed to write songs that actually touched people, that made them feel things beyond the generic, algorithm-churned hits polluting the industry.
So, was it a combination of all these things? Yes.
But also, no.
Because while all those ingredients were necessary to make a star, they weren't enough to explain why Ethan had exploded the way he had. There were plenty of people out there who had talent, who had the looks, who had soul-stirring music. There were plenty of people who wanted to become stars and plenty more who already were but still couldn't reach his level of fame and exposure.
Then, was it Universal Music Group's backing?
That certainly helped. But why would UMG, one of the biggest, most powerful record labels in the world, push one single artist so aggressively? Why would a business-savvy mogul like Lucian Grainge be so obsessed with this one guy, pouring the full weight of his empire into ensuring his success?
Because Lucian, a man who had spent decades in the music industry, knew something most people didn't.
There were two major reasons why Ethan was so overwhelmingly adored, two reasons that would make people scoff, shake their heads, and dismiss it as nonsense—until they stopped and actually thought about it. Two reasons so ridiculous that they sounded crazy, but so undeniably true that they made perfect business sense.
Alongside his voice, his talent, his looks, and his ability to sing the right songs at the right time, Ethan Jones had two other crucial advantages:
He was white. And he was a man.
Exactly.
Two seemingly stupid reasons. But reasons that, in this industry, mattered more than anyone liked to admit.
Lucian Grainge, a seasoned executive, understood the power of these factors better than anyone. Let's take the 'white' factor, for example.
Consider two mega-stars: Taylor Swift and Beyoncé. Both are industry giants, both are phenomenally successful, both are in the same tier of global superstardom. But if you dig a little deeper, the disparities start to show.
Beyoncé is an artist who has pushed herself beyond limits, stepping out of her comfort zone time and time again. Her vocals are among the most powerful the world has ever heard. She has unparalleled stage presence, she's a masterful dancer, and her performances feel like legendary cultural moments.
Taylor Swift, on the other hand, is undoubtedly talented and a brilliant songwriter, but let's be honest—her vocals, by industry standards, aren't exactly mind-blowing. Her stage presence? Not the strongest. Dancing? Well, let's just say she knows her limits. She started in country music, then transitioned into pop yet all she is known for are her heartbreak and catchy teen songs, and somehow, despite all this, she's one of the biggest artists in history.
And here's the kicker—by the numbers, Taylor Swift actually surpasses Beyoncé in pure album sales and streaming numbers.
How?
Simple.
Because, as the saying goes, "Black people have to work twice as hard to be valued the same."
A sad reality. But a reality nonetheless.
'White sells.' And Lucian knew that better than anyone.
Then there was the 'male' factor.
The shortage of top-tier male pop stars was painfully obvious. The industry was flooded with female artists, but a truly dominant male pop artist was a rare entity. When one did appear, they had access to a much wider demographic. Women loved them, men found them easier to support, and their appeal transcended traditional genre lines.
Take this NFL crowd, for example. Even if Taylor Swift—arguably the biggest pop star on the planet—walked into that stadium, she wouldn't get the same reaction as Ethan Jones. He had that universal appeal, something most female artists struggled to achieve in the same way.
Lucian had seen this phenomenon before.
Michael Jackson dominated music despite being Black. The industry took note of that and thought, "What if we had that level of success, but with a white guy? How bigger could it get"
Enter Justin Timberlake. He had the right appeal, but inconsistency in his music and a lack of staying power kept him from reaching true dominance.
Then came Justin Bieber, the golden boy who had everything—the looks, the voice, the teen idol charm. But bad exposure, poor decisions, bad influence and industry politics kept him from reaching the full potential they had envisioned for him. Even so, Bieber became one of the biggest names in music, proving that the formula worked.
Then came the next one. And this time, UMG wasn't the one holding him. No, he signed with their biggest rival, Sony Music.
His name? Harry Styles.
He had everything they were looking for. He was the golden goose they'd been searching for. And worse, he had come from an already successful boy band, One Direction, making him an even stronger contender.
That loss stung UMG. They had a gaping hole to fill.
Then, along came Ethan Jones.
Ethan had everything Justin Timberlake lacked. Everything Bieber had, but better. He was more attractive, a better singer than Harry Styles, and had the complete package. Lucian Grainge saw it immediately.
He didn't even need to be as good as Michael Jackson—just half as good. And if he could be even that, Lucian was sure he would surpass him.
Ethan had it all.
The era. The looks. The skin color. The gender. Every advantage stacked in his favor.
And Lucian wasn't about to make the same mistakes with Ethan that he had seen happen to Bieber. He was going to protect this investment. He was going to ensure that Ethan Jones became the next King of Pop. The sheer amount of money and profit that would come from it? Unimaginable.
Meanwhile, Ethan sat there, a slightly wonky smile on his face, nodding along as Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson hyped up the crowd before kickoff. He had no idea the level of anticipation, expectation, and corporate scheming that had gone into his rise. He had no idea that one of the most powerful men in the music industry had placed the weight of an entire empire on his shoulders.
Was Ethan blessed by God with all the perfect conditions, or was he merely the creation of a man behind a phone, shaping his destiny with each word? Be that as it may, the throne stood before him, waiting—watching—daring him to climb.
But for now, all he cared about was enjoying the game.
(Remember there is a massive shortage of male pop stars in this world )